Kidnapped

• Timothy Outram, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2010

The night was cold and cruel to the people of the kingdom, but the Queen laughed at the night air, wrapped in the finest robes money could buy. She held a delicate glass of wine in her left hand; her right perched on the rail of her balcony. She ordered her servant to bring her more food, she waited and waited but the minutes pasted by, she turned on her heel and walked towards the stairs. She raced down them frustrated, then she stopped something wasn’t right she turned and screamed as she saw her servants dead body 10 metres down the stairs, then everything went dark.
Jack rolled out of bed, with a thud he hit the ground, he stood up with a groan and looked around. “This place seems too quiet,” Jack said to himself. Walked out to his father, he was weeping and hadn’t touched his breakfast. Jack asked the king what the matter was and he replied, “Your mother has been kidnapped!”
Jack thundered down the stairs, he was fast and kept a steady pace. He jumped over the last few steps, he sprinted to the weaponry and picked his favourite sword, he knew they hadn’t left the kingdom yet but they weren’t far from it.
He ran out and asked if anyone had seen her, all the answers, “NO!” He started searching the abandoned huts, still no one. “This isn’t happening,” Jack said, then a thought hit me the old castle it still open, they forgot to seal it off. He raced off towards the old castle of Grassias. He stopped at the old rotting doors, he pushed at one and his hand went right through the door. Kicked a hole big enough to fit through, he raced to the stairs and raced down them two at a time. He got down them fast, he ran along the corridor, he could here moaning, it was getting louder. He stopped at a cell; there was his mother in the cell groaning. He tried to open the door, it didn’t budge.
A cold voice from behind him said, “Looking for these,” Jack heard keys jingling. He turned, sword at the ready. He had turned just in time, the ugly kidnapper had swung his sword and Jack blocked it. He swung it again, this time it was a backhand Jack blocked again, then Jack swung his sword, it was blocked with ease. The kidnaper swung his heavy broad-sword in an arc, the cling of the metal was deafening and the force from the blow was amazing. Their swords were locked; both were pushing with all their force. The kidnaper pulled his sword out of the lock and swung, he had misjudged it, our swords met in mid swing, the broad-sword came spiralling out of the kidnaper’s hands and landed with a cling next to my foot. I bent down to pick it up, when I stood up all I could see was his silhouette running up the stairs.